I struggled to read as a kid, that is to say; I didn’t form the good habits of picking up a book very often. As a child with learning difficulties and being enrolled in a primary school that wasn’t entirely encouraging, I struggled to see the rewarding elements of reading.

On the bus journey to or from secondary school, a friend of mine would often shove a book in my hands; no doubt trying to share their love of literature, whether it be an undoubtedly funny passage from a Terry Pratchett novel or a heartfelt quote; I have no idea because my dyspraxic brain was too busy being distracted by the noisy brake pads or the irritable texture of the socks I was wearing.

Growing up as a dyspraxic in a world that hadn’t (still hasn’t) heard of the disablity was quite difficult. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a…